The Seventh Scroll (47 page)

"Thank you Herr von Schiller." Nahoot smiled eaginously, but his dark eyes weren nervous. There was something cold and dispassionate about the old German that terrified him. He had displayed ro emotion whatsoever as he ordered Nahoot to arrange the death of Duraid Al Simma and his wife. Nahoot knew that he would be equally unmoved if he were-to order Nahoot's own murder. He realized that he was riding the tiger's back. "I would just like to qualify that statement. I said that the stele pictured in these prints appeared to be genuine. Of course I would not be able to give you a definite opinion until I was able to examine the actual stone at first hand."

"I note your qualificatioq," von Schiller nodded, "and we are assembled here to find the means to obtain the stele for your examination and verdict." He picked up the glossy print that Utte had made from the original that morning in the laboratory darkroom in the adjoining hut. Photography was not the least of her many talents and skills and she had done a very competent job. The copies of the Polaroids that Helm had transmitted to him in Hamburg had been blurred and distorted, but still they had been sufficient to bring him rushing across the continents in all this haste. Now he held these clear likenesses in full colour, and his excitement threatened to suffocate him.

While they were all silent, he caressed the print as lovingly as if it had been the actual object that it portrayed.

If this were genuine, as he knew instinctively that it was, then it alone would be well worth the considerable cost in time and money and human life that he had already paid.

It was a marvelous treasure, to match even the original seventh scroll which was already in his collection. The condition and state of preservation of the stele after four thousand years seemed to be extraordinary. He lusted for it as he had for few things in his long life. It required an effort to set aside this pervasive longing, and to apply his mind to the task ahead of him.

If, however, the stele is genuine, Doctor, can you tell us, or rather, can you suggest to us where it may be situated, and where we should direct our search?"

"I believe that we should not consider the stele in isolation, Herr von Schiller. We should look at the other Polaroids that Colonel Nogo was able to recover for us, and which Frdulein Kemper has so ingeniously copied." Nahoot set aside the one print and selected another from the pile in the folder in front of him. "This one, for example."

The others riffled through their own folders and selected the same print as he was displaying.

"If you study the background of this copy, you will see that in the shadows behind the stele there appears to be the wall of some type of cave or cavern." He looked up at von Schiller, who nodded encouragement.

"There also appears to be some type of barred doorway."Nahoot set the print aside and selected another. "Now, see here. This is a photograph taken of another subject. It is, I believe, of a mural decoration painted upon either a plastered wall or the bare rock of a cave, possibly an excavated tomb, It seems to have been taken through the grille of the gate which I pointed out to you in the first photograph of the stele. This mural is almost certainly Egyptian in style and influence. In fact it very strongly reminds me of those murals that decorated the tomb of Queen Lostris in Upper Egypt in which the original Taita scrolls were uncovered."

"Yes. Yes. Go only' von Schiller encouraged him.

"Very well, then. Using the barred gate as the connecting factor, there is every reason to believe that both stele and murals are located in the same cave or tomb

"If that is so, what indications do we have as to where Quenton-Harper photographed these Polaroids7' Von still frowning angrily as he looked at each of Schiller was jl them in turn. They all tried to avoid his blue, penetrating scrutiny.

Colonel Nogo," von Schiller singled him out, "this is your country, You know the terrain intimately. Let's hear our thoughts on the subject." Colonel Nogo shook his head. "This man, this Egyptian-' he used the epithet disparagingly, "is mistaken. This is not an Egyptian tomb in the photographs."

"Why do you say that?" Nahoot challenged him angrily.

"What do you know about Egyptology? I have spent twenty five years-I

"Wait," von Schiller silenced him peremptorily. "Let him finish." He looked at Nogo. "Go on, colonel."

"I agree that I don't know anything about Egyptian tombs, but these photographs were taken in a Christian church."

"What makes you so sure? Nahoot demanded bitterly, his authority challenged.

"Let me explain to you that I was ordained as a priest fifteen years ago. Later, I became disillusioned with Christianity and all other religions, and left the Church to may believe become a soldier. I tell you this so that you that I know what I am talking about." He smiled with ilious malice at Nahoot, before going on. "Look at superc and you will be able to make out on this first print again, the wall in the background, near the corner of the grille gate, the outline of a human hand and the stylized picture mbols of the Coptic Church. You can see -of a fish. Those are sy see them reproduced in any church or cathedral in the land." Each of them peered at their own copy of the same of them ventured an opinion until von print, but none Schiller had given his, "You are right," von Schiller said softly.

"There is, as you say, the hand and the fish."

"But I assure you the hieroglyphics on the stele and the murals and the wooden coffin are all Egyptian," Nahoot . "I would stake my life on it." defended himself stoutly Nogo shook his head, and began to argue. "I know what I am saying-'

Von Schiller held up his hand to silence them both while he considered the problem. At last he came to some decision.

"Colonel Nogo, show me on the satellite photograph the site of QuentonHarper's camp where you obtained these Polaroids-'

Nogo stood up, and came around the table to stand beside von Schiller. He leaned over the atellite photograph and prodded his forefinger at the spot near where the Dandera river joined the Nile. The photograph had once been in the possession of Quenton Harper, and had been captured in the raid on his camp. There were numerous markings in coloured marker pen on the copy, which Nogo presumed had been placed there by the Englishman.

"It was here, sir. You can see that Quenton-Harper has marked the spot with a green circle."

"Now show me where the nearest Coptic church is situated."

"Why, Herr von Schiller, it's right here. Again Quenton-Harper has marked it with red ink. It is situated only a mile from the campsite. The monastery of St. Frumentius."

"There is your answer, then." Von Schiller was still frowning "Coptic and Egyptian symbols together. The monastery."

They stared at him, none of them daring to question his conclusion.

"I want that monastery searched," he said softly. "I want every room and every inch of every wall examined." He turned back to Nogo. "Can you get your men in there?"

"Of course, Herr von Schiller. I already have one of my reliable men in the monastery - one of the monks is in my pay. Added to that, there is still martial law in force here in Gojam. I am the military commander. I am fully mpowered to search for rebels and dissidents and bandits wherever I suspect they may be sheltering."

"Will your men enter a church to perform their duty?" Helm wanted to know. "Do you personally have any religious scruples? It may be necessary to - how can I put it desecrate hallowed premises." I have already'explained to you that I have renounced religion for other more worldly beliefs. I would take pleasure in destroying such superstitious and dangerous symbols as will certainly be found in the monastery of St. Frumentius. As for my men, I will select only Moslems or Animists who are hostile to the cross, and all it stands for. I will lead them personally. I assure you that there will be no difficulty in that respect."

"How will you explain this to your superiors in Addis Ababa? I do not want to be associated in any way with your actions at the monastery,' von Schiller said.

I have been ordered by the high command in Addis to take all possible steps against the dissident rebels that are operating in the Abbay gorge. I will be completely able to justify any search of the monastery."

"I want that stele. I want it at any cost. Do you understand me, colonel?" i understand you perfectly, Herr von Schiller."

"As you already know, I am a generous man to those who serve me well. Bring it to me in good condition and you will be well rewarded. You may call on Mr Helm for any assistance that he can give you, including the use of Pegasus equipment and personnel."

"If we are able to use your helicopter, it will save a great deal of time. I can take my men there tomorrow, and if the stone is in the monastery I will be able to deliver it to you by tomorrow evening."

"Excellent. You will take Dr Guddabi with you. He must search the area for other valuables and translate any inscriptions or engravings that you find in the monastery.

Please provide him with military uniform. He must appear to be one of your troopers. I do not want to become involved in recriminations at a later date."

"We will leave as soon as it is light enough to take off tomorrow morning. I will commence the arrangements immediately." Turna Nogo saluted von Schiller and strode eagerly from the hut.

hough Colonel Nogo had never entered either the qiddist or the maqdas, he had often visited the monastery of St. Frumentius. He was therefore fully aware of the magnitude of the task ahead of him, and the likely reaction of the monks and the congregation to his forced entry to their premises. In addition, he was familiar with numerous similar rock cathedrals in other parts of the country. In fact he had been ordained in the famous cathedral of Lalibelela, so he knew just how labyrinthine one of these subterranean warrens could be.

He estimated that he would need at least twenty men to secure and search the monastery, and to fend off the outraged retaliation of the abbot and his monks. He selected his best men personally. None of them was squeamish.

Two hours before dawn he paraded them within the security of the Pegasus compound, under the glare of the floodlights, and briefed them carefully. At the end of the briefing he made each man step from the ranks in turn and recite his orders to ensure there was no misunderstanding. Then he inspected their arms and equipment meticulously.

Tuma Nogo was painfully conscious of his own culpability in allowing the Englishman and the Egyptian woman to escape, and he could sense the danger in Herr von Schiller's attitude towards him. He had few illusions about the consequences if he were to fail again. In the short time since he had made the acquaintance of Gotthold von Schiller, Nogo had come to fear him as he had never feared God or the Devil in the days of his priesthood. He realized that this raid was an opportunity to reinstate himself with the formidable little German.

The jet Ranger was standing by, the pilot at the controls, the engines running and the rotors turning lazily, but it could not carry such a large number of fully equipped men. It would need four round trips to ferry them all down to the asse4bly point in the gorge. Nogo flew with the first flight, and took Nahoot Guddabi with him. The helicopter dropped them three miles from the monastery, in a clearing on the banks of the Dandera river, the same drop area as they had used for the raid on Quenton-Harper's camp.

The drop area was just far enough from the monastery for the engine noise of the jet Ranger not to alarm the monks. Even if they did hear it, Nogo was banking on the probability that they were by this time thoroughly conditioned to the frequent sorties of the machine, and would not associate it with any threat to themselves.

The men waited in the darkness, warned to silence and not even allowed by Nogo to smoke, while the jet Ranger ferried in the remaining troopers. When the last flight came in Nogo ordered his detachment to fall in, and led them in single file down the path beside the river. They were all trained bush fighters in top physical condition, and they moved swiftly and purposefully through the night.

Only Nahoot was a soft urbanite, and within half a mile he was wheezing and whining for a chance to rest. Nogo smiled vindictively to himself as he listened to Nahoot's pathetic whispered pleas for mercy as he was prodded along by the men behind him.

Nogo had timed his arrival at the monastery to coincide with the hour of matins and lauds, the break of day. He led his contingent down the cliff staircase at a trot.

Their weapons were at high port, all the equipment was carefully muted so as not to clatter or creak, and their rubber-soled paratrooper boots made little noise on the stone paving as they hurried along the deserted cloisters to the entrance of the underground cathedral.

From the interior echoed the monotonous chanting and drumming of the ceremony, punctuated at intervals by the higher treble descant of the abbot leading the service.

Colonel Nogo paused outside the doors, and his men drew LA up in double ranks behind him. There was no need for orders for his briefing had covered every aspect of the raid.

He looked the men over for a moment, then nodded at his lieutenant. The outer chamber of the church was empty, as the monks were gathered in the middle chamber, the qiddist.

Nogo crossed the outer nave swiftly, with his detachment moving up close behind him. Then he ran up the steps to the wooden doors of the qiddist, which stood open. As he entered, his men fanned out in two files behind him and swiftly took up their positions along the side walls of the qiddist, their assault rifles cocked and locked, and with bayonets fixed, ing cover the kneeling congregation.

and swiftly that it was some it was done so silently minutes before the monks gradually became aware of this alien presence in their holy place. The chanting and drumming died away, and the dark faces turned apprehensively towards the ranks of armed men. Only Jah Hora, the and happen ancient abbot, was unaware of anything untow ing. Completely absorbed in his devotions, he continued kneeling before re the doors of the maqdas, the Holy of Holies, his quavering voice the lonely cry of a lost soul.